


if today I hate you (tomorrow I love you).

by sereias



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Simon is confused, baz is tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 02:54:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6886573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sereias/pseuds/sereias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snow plays his role as Baz's enemy much better than he does. (The whole loving the enemy thing probably undermined his part  – he was perfect in character before fifth year happened.)</p>
<p> </p>
<p> Baz is suddenly tired of pretending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if today I hate you (tomorrow I love you).

**Author's Note:**

> So... it's been a while since I wrote for the last time. (My english was terrible then. Let me know if you still think it's terrible now.) It's my first work on the fandom and I feel like we need more fics here because I basically read everything already. Anyway, go for it. Sorry if I abused on the parentheses :D

Baz is suddenly tired of pretending.

It’s a random thought, in a random morning, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

It pretty much goes with him waking up with a fuck it all attitude.

He thinks, no, he _knows_ that Snow is mostly the reason of his exhaustion. Snow is always with an eye on him (and not in the good way), waiting for Baz to make a mistake. To let something slip. The problem comes from this ‘something’ – his almost certain vampirism, his supposedly love for Agatha and always Snow’s favorite, the nonexistent plotting.

Snow plays his role as Baz’s enemy much better than he does. The whole loving the enemy thing probably undermined his part – he was perfect in character before fifth year happened.

The sun starts to rise, casting a soft light inside their room. Snow is making noises in his sleep (he doesn’t actually _snore_ , is more like loud intakes of breath). His mouth is open, as usual (mouth breather), probably also drooling over his pillow, as usual. Gross.

(And so cute.)

Baz sighs.

He is so tired.

*

Is easy to say that today is not the day for a fight with his roommate. Too much going on in his head. Vulnerability constantly threatening to expose him. Fear of what he hides and what would it mean if it all came out. Fear of how much he just wants to _tell everything._

He only has the time to drain the blood of one rat before he hears footsteps coming from the hallways of the Catacombs (he needs at least three or four rats to be satisfied). The smell of his roommate comes after. Soon enough, Snow will reach the place where Baz is sitting – if he didn’t get lost first – with an empty corpse at his foot.

_What would happen if it all came out?_

(He is actually considering. Aleister Crowley, he _is!_ )

Snow is almost there. Baz grabs another rat, breaks his little neck and bites it with all the courage he can muster in the moment.

And then Snow _is_ there, with that bloody sword in hand. Paler than Baz has ever seen him. Mouth open in shock, he thinks. Maybe disgust. Probably disgust.

Baz is sucking the rat still. He lets his eyes get up to meet Snow’s, to let him know that Baz _knows_ he is here, watching him, and only so because that’s what _he_ wants. Because Baz _let him_ see it. Not because of a stupid mistake. Not because Simon is better than him. Even though he probably is.

When the second rat is drained completely, he gets up and grabs another. Silently, calmly. 

He's feeling everything but that.

With shaking hands he breaks another neck. Bites another body. He’s starting to feel full, maybe he won’t even need a fourth today.

Snow hasn’t said anything yet.

Then the third rat is empty, too and he feels completely full. (Maybe the anxiety helped with that a little.) He cleans his mouth with his shirtsleeve and gets up to go back to their room, all the time ignoring Snow’s presence. He saw it, now what he wants to do with the information is up to him.

“Why?” Is barely a whisper.

Baz reaches the hallway to leave, exactly where Snow is standing. The sword is gone; his shoulders are dropped in what seems like disappointment.

“You wanted to know what I was doing here. Now you finally do. Do with that what you want. Maybe from now on you’ll let me feed in peace.” Baz says, resentment leaking from his mouth. He wishes, not for the first time, that he wasn't weak for this boy.

Snow is not looking at him, instead staring at the empty tiny bodies on the floor. “That is not what I was expecting.”

It hurts more than it should. (Or maybe doesn’t. Baz is in love with the same guy that hates his guts. It hurts just like it should.) It infuriates him more than enough.

“What exactly were you expecting, huh?” Baz snarls at his face and Simon finally looks at him. “A ritual? Human corpses, perhaps?”

Baz feels angry and sick at the possibility that those were things Simon expected from him. Even thought he often saw his own insecurities mirrored by Simon's feelings towards him, Baz also knew the limits he imposed for himself, that no matter how desperate or hungry he was, he would never cross it.

“I know the kind of monster I am, but it’s not the murder type.” He says, hating himself for it. Baz gave too much of him today already.

(He does not notice the flinch his words cause or the expression of pain in Simon’s face.) (He is too focused on his own.)

He leaves Snow to find his own way back. When Simon does, eventually, Baz is already sleeping on his bed, and it feels like nothing ever happened.

When the morning comes, they don’t even look at each other.

 

*

 

It’s been a week since _the thing_ happened. (Baz doesn’t know what else to call _the thing._ ) It’s also been a week since Snow uttered a word to him. Their room is constantly thick with the awkwardness now. It’s not like they actually _talked_ with each other before, but now it’s just weird.

And a little sad, too. He kind of misses their fights.

(But not the suppositions. He was, _is_ , pretty tired of those.)

Maybe he should start a new one.

Ha! Like that would resolve their relationship (doomed since Baz is a Pitch and Simon The Mage’s Heir).

Baz is in the bathroom when the door opens. And when it closes with a loud bang.

He comes out of the bathroom with words made to tease in the tip of his tongue.

Then he _remembers_ and decides to just shut the fuck up.

Snow doesn’t.

“Oh, y-you are here,” he falters.

“This is also my room, Snow.”

He sighs guiltily, “That’s not what I meant – I,”

“I know, just teasing.” Crowley, this was painful.

Baz doesn’t know what to do next, (neither does Simon). Half an hour passes in absolutely silence. Baz trying – and failing – to study, Snow staring at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry, Baz,” he breaks, honest in his words as much as a surprised Baz can see in his eyes. Baz can only stare at him in a slightly open-mouthed cry. “I shouldn’t have – I mean, it’s not like is your fault – It wasn’t right of me to –” His voice is failing the words, almost like he is going to start crying. Baz can’t handle Snow crying.

“It’s… fine,” he interrupts Snow’s trembling words, “I mean, it wasn’t fine. But you have all the reasons to not trust me,” unfortunately, doomed since the beginning, “and that’s just the way it is,” Baz shrugged, “that’s the way it’s always going to be. I’m the blood-sucking monster and you are The Chosen One. We’re just playing our roles.”

“Like two pawns in a game,” Snow concludes Baz’s line of thought. (He never lets himself go that far, mostly out of respect for The Mage.) (But Simon knows.) (They took his life choices, his options.)

(Maybe even Baz.)

“By the way, I don’t think you are a monster.”

“You called me a monster before, Snow. No need to feel guilty now.”

“I’m feeling guilty because I was wrong. But I know better now. You are _not_ a monster, Baz.”

And because Simon is insufferable, he adds “You are just an arsehole.”

Baz snorts and _grins_ , “Idiot.”

(Simon’s stomach does a thing.)

And they are back to normal.

 

*

 

Their normal becomes more friendly and each one makes the effort to keep it that way.

(So that’s what Simon thinks he’s doing right now.)

“Baz, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

Baz, lying on his bed reading an old book that smells like mold, seems unconscious of Simon’s edginess. He turns another page, “What is it?”

Snow clears his throat awkwardly, “You know that Agatha and I are not… you know, _dating_ anymore.”

Baz freezes. (Anything remotely close about his feelings for Snow makes him instantly sick.) (And suspicious.) (Where is he going with this?) (Does he _know_?)

“So?” he asks bored.

“So if you decide to, like, _invest_ on her,” Snow starts to fidgets with his fingers, “I want you to know that I’m not gonna be mad about it,” he rushes in one breath.

(Besides the following – and most – awkward silence Simon has ever experienced in his life, he is actually relieved that at least this is out in the open.) (He knows how Baz is working in this relationship as much as he is.)

Baz feels annoyed. _Bloody Snow, back with the suppositions again._ Though it has been a while and Baz _can’t really_ blame him. It’s like, if you are not out of the closet, then you are automatically straight. For Snow, Agatha is the only obvious choice.

“What changed?” He asks, genuinely curious.

Snow frowns, “We changed.” Soft, his voice is so soft.

“Do you want me to invest on her?” This is dangerous territory. (Baz can’t stop walking to the edge.)

Snow’s frown deepens, “That doesn’t matter. She doesn’t like me anymore. She likes you.”

“But _do you_ still love her?”

“I – I… no. I mean, I do but, I’m not _in love_ with her.” Snow is clearly getting confused about Baz’s line of question, and Baz can see that. He just can’t stop it. He’s so close to it all, if it’s not going to be now then it’s _not going to be at all._

“ _Do you want me to invest on her_?” He can feel his heart threatening to leave his mouth with the words. He just wants Simon to say no for the right reason. The reason that means _him._

“No”, Snow whispers.

It’s just a simple no that Baz doesn’t know what to think of, except that, Snow being cool or not with the idea of he and Agatha doesn’t really matter, his answer could only ever be one.

“Then I will not.”

“Why not?” There’s this urgency in his voice that Baz finds distressing.

“ _Because_ … I don’t want to fight anymore.”

Snow takes a step towards him. “We won’t, I promise! Just, if you don’t go to her I’m going to feel guilty. Like I’m the reason you didn’t got your happy ending.”

“You think Agatha is my happy ending?” It’s incredulous! It’s ridiculous! He wants to shout, _it’s you!_

“Isn’t she? You tried to – to _seduce_ her away from me since fifth year!”

(It must be said that Snow it’s not good with words.)

“I wasn’t trying to _seduce_ her! I was just… trying to annoy you! I’m not nor I’ll ever be interested in Agatha.”

“What does that even mean?”

Well, shit. Here goes nothing.

Here goes _everything._

“It means that I’m gay.”

Every time Baz says that out loud it’s one more piece of himself that he lets free. It’s such a relief and so terrifying at the same time. It’s like a rollercoaster, the fear of the climb, the expectation of the fall, the want at the end of the ride to go again and again, because at the end, you realize it wasn’t that bad.

(Or you just throw up, really.)

Because that’s who he is and that’s who he wants to be. 

(Because he knows Simon is not like his father, and _that_ is not going to happen again.)

“But - but that doesn’t make any sense!” Snow is flushed. “I saw the way you looked at me and Agatha when we were together! That was pure jealous, Baz. And not the type you can fake. That was true.” He looks almost hurt, which puzzles Baz to the point where he thinks this whole conversation is just a really giant mess.

He is grateful for Simon, though. His question is only honest confusion.

And well, Snow now knows about his vampirism and his queerness, there is just one secret more. This time, at the end of _this_ rollercoaster, Baz is _definitely_ throwing up.

“That’s because I wasn’t faking.”

Snow’s mouth runs before his brain does, “But you just said…” they do, eventually, always come together, “ _Oh_.”

It’s suffocating to watch Simon realizing what he couldn’t have before. The open mouth and the wide eyes. Baz can feel his whole face warming up and his body burning cold.

“But you hate me.” Simon asks, affirms, _insists._

“I do,” Baz answers. “I feel a lot of things when it comes to you, Simon. Most of the time though, … I just love you.”

There’s a hiss of a breath, then Simon is pushing a hand through his hair and turning around; turning his back to Baz. It’s worse than if Simon had actually said something. It’s wordless rejection, but it’s a rejection anyway.

(Simon can feel his face burning and his heart thumping and his hands sweating. He is facing his bed so he doesn’t have to look at Baz. It’s too much, too fast!)

(But it’s also – It makes him _feel_ – _It’s_ …)

Baz lowers his head and goes for the door.

Simon sees him and snaps, “Baz, _wait!_ ” Snow grabs his arm before Baz can open the door, “Just wait.” Snow’s grip is strong as he waits for Baz to look at him.

But he won’t. He’s with a hand in the door knob, ready to leave. _Pleading_ to.

“ _Baz,_ ” Simon whispers. It means “look at me” and “don’t go yet”.

He is shorter than Baz, so he takes a step closer, forcing Baz to look at him. When he does, Simon is assaulted with grey eyes and a long nose, with lips softly pink and a sharp chin. Baz’s familiar features that suddenly are all new to him.

“ _Baz._ ” It means “kiss me”, but is Simon who does it.

Baz’s lips are still at first, and then Simon can feel it opening up to him, slowly and hesitating. He moves his hands from Baz’s arm to Baz’s neck, then – _finally!_ – to his hair. (It’s been ages since Simon wanted to do that.) At the touch, Baz lets a soft sigh escape his mouth, pressing his lips more confidently against Simon’s. Simon realizes that he can’t feel Baz’s hands touching him anywhere, so he takes Baz’s hands – fists that gently loses its grip – and places both of them on either side of his waist. His hands then travel slowly over Baz’s long arms, squeezing his shoulders on the way, before going back again to his hair.

(Baz is so determined in not messing this up, there are wrinkles in his forehead and between his eyebrows.)

When Baz finally moves his hands, itching to feel Simon’s locks against his fingers, he lets out a hiss of pain. Simon’s cross it’s dangling between them.

“Oh, sorry, I forgot about it.” Simon takes the cross off his neck and throws it at his bed. (Or somewhere in the room really, it’s not like he’s paying attention.)

When he leans over again, though, the spell is already broken.

Baz looks terrified. Simon wants to kiss it better.

“What is it?” Simon asks.

“Why did you kissed me?”

“Because I wanted to.”

“Since when?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. _Now, it seems like forever._ “Since you told me you loved me? Since you asked me if I wanted you to invest on Agatha. I don’t, but I think it’s because of you.” The more Simon talks the more that look of fear starts to turn into something else, so he just keeps going, trying not to stumble for once over the words. “Since I saw how much pain I caused you that night in the Catacombs. Since touching your hair became one of the topics in my list of _things not to think about._ ”

“You have a list with my hair on it?” Baz starts to laugh, relieved.

“Shut up,” but he’s laughing, too.

Closing the space between them.

Kissing Baz’s jaw, neck, collarbone. “Maybe it’s not as long as you did, but, _Baz_ … It doesn’t mean my feelings are any less real, okay?”

Baz is not laughing anymore. His fingers are between Simon’s curls, pushing, caressing. His hands are under Snow’s shirt, trying to feel the moles that he knows are there while also kissing the visible ones on his cheek. Below his ear. They are everywhere. They are all _his_.

“Okay.”


End file.
